


BloodSport Extras!

by bloodydamnit



Series: BloodSport [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Raven Andrew Minyard, Raven Neil Josten, Someone gets punched, Sort Of, The Nest, The Perfect Court (All For The Game), Will add more as chapters go on, and its very cathartic, at least i think its fluff. and ive been told my fluff is not fluff so, bloodsport, happy birthday neil josten, in rikos mind yes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 04:06:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17480858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodydamnit/pseuds/bloodydamnit
Summary: A collection of scenes from BloodSport, that don't yet fit into the main story.





	BloodSport Extras!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I have a lot of stories that I want to tell happening inside of the Nest, but I don't know if they'll ever fit in the fic at the time I'm writing it. So, I thought, why not just post a collection of short stories?  
> I hope you all like them! This is completely self indulgent. I just really want to see these bits and pieces of time Neil and Andrew spent inside of the Nest, realized.  
> Will take requests! I'd love to explore more of their backstories!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil's birthday inside the Nest. Someone gets punched and it's pretty satisfying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! So, Neil's birthday had just passed (I'm late) and I wanted to write a story. At first, it was going to be something light and fluffy, but I think I'm physically incapable of doing that? So, instead, I made [this piece](https://bloodydamnit.tumblr.com/post/182180388479/happy-birthday-neil-josten-finally-i-am-a-day) and tried to write a story surrounding it... I don't know if it was successful, but I tried lol!
> 
> Thank you so much to [fuzzballsheltiepants](https://fuzzballsheltiepants.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this for me. You are absolutely amazing and I really, really appreciate it!!!  
> And thank you to [fuckyeahdisreputablekibeth](https://fuckyeahdisreputablekibeth.tumblr.com/) and [seabearthirteen](https://seabearthirteen.tumblr.com/) for letting me shout my ideas at y'all. Thank you for always putting up with me T^T
> 
> There are a few warnings for this chapter, so just be aware!  
> Graphic Violence  
> Reference to past abuse  
> I think that's it... There may be more and if there are, please, please, PLEASE, let me know. 
> 
> You guys wanted more figure skating, so here it is! If it gets confusing, please let me know so I can fix that with future projects. I've modeled Andrew's skating after [Mikhail Kolyada's FS from 2017](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzLUtvHwKyo). Which, btw, I absolutely hate Elvis - so I added it purely because of Mikhail (also, you can totally use your imagination and see Mikhail AS Andrew. not that they look alike, but... still)
> 
> I hope you all enjoy!!!

It was a bad day; one of those no good, very bad days. Neil awoke to find Jean sitting up in his bed with a sick look on his face. Normally, Neil ignored Jean to the best of his ability. Not because he didn’t like him, but because he didn’t _really_ like him. He wasn’t a bad roommate. Jean was quiet and as far as Neil knew, kept his mouth shut whenever Andrew and Neil forwent the dorms and slept in the bleachers. In a way, Neil respected him for that. He was most certainly thankful, even though he was fairly certain Jean did it to save his own ass.

Before Neil could ask what was up with the constipated face, Jean pointed to the bottom of Neil’s bed and whispered, “Riko...”

An envelope sat where Neil’s feet had been. It was blank on one side and unaddressed. On the flip, there was a smiley face sticker keeping the flap sealed. Neil rolled his eyes at the dramatics and ignored the nudging nausea that crept into his stomach.

This had happened before. Two months ago, Riko had crept into their room (thankfully Neil was actually in bed and not with Andrew) and laid a single blank envelope on Jean’s covers. Neil was still sleeping when Jean opened it, only to be woken up by Jean’s panic attack. He didn’t know what was inside and didn’t ask. Instead, Neil had dragged a shivering, gasping Jean all the way to the bathroom and sat him in the shower. Letting warm water wash over him, Jean’s shaking stopped, but a dark fear crept into his eyes. Later that day, Neil kept as close an eye on Jean as he could. That night, Neil asked what was in the envelope, but watched the panic start to sink in again. He took the silence, let Jean have it, and never asked again.

He had brought it up to a quiet, contemplative Andrew the next day. Andrew said if it happened again, come to him first.

Well.

Here it was. With a glance at Jean’s blanched face, he tossed the envelope behind him with an air of nonchalance and started his morning.

Once Neil was showered and dressed, he pocketed the envelope to give to Andrew later and swallowed the temptation to look inside.

-

According to the roster, the schedule had been changed. Bread was toasting behind him as Neil peered up at the sheet of complex boxes and darkly colored dots with furrowed brows. This wasn’t anything new. Riko or the _Master_ had been fucking with Neil’s schedule ever since him and Andrew started getting close. However, yesterday it said Neil was to have three sessions with Andrew and a ballet masterclass. Today, Andrew’s dots have been moved around and if Neil could remember correctly, replaced with Jean’s. The envelope in his pocket felt like it was burning a hole into his skin as Neil clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes. The only session Neil had with Andrew was the very last one of the night. He was just going to have to hope he saw him sometime in between. The letter would have to wait until then.

The toaster dinged ready.

-

Hours passed. On a normal day, Neil had six sessions in the morning, with a break in between to refuel. Afterwards, he had a quick lunch and sped to Madam Seiskaya’s class. A part of Neil hoped Andrew would still be there. When he arrived, he saw Jean instead.

Neil tried not to feel disappointment, but the scowl on his lips couldn’t be wiped away as he dropped his bag on the opposite side of the room and bent to put on his proper shoes.

Class went as normal, but for Jean’s eyes burning into the back of Neil’s head. He was halfway tempted to turn around and tell Jean to fuck off. He kept his mouth shut instead.

Madam Seiskaya was an old woman with a deeply wrinkled face and long nails. She was harsh and slapped their legs with a wooden dowel whenever their knees bent, toes flexed, or fingers strained. Sometimes she yelled, others she cursed in her heavy Greek accent (her husband was a famous Russian Ballerino - hence, Seiskaya), but overall, she was actually quite funny.

Neil enjoyed her classes; they were challenging and pushed his body to the limit. Sometimes, when Neil made a mistake, she would clench her hands into claws and approached him threateningly as she said through her teeth, “I. Will. Kill you.” A humorous and playful light always shone behind her slate gray eyes, so all Neil could do was laugh in response. Other times, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips and she would wink when overhearing Neil and Andrew talking shit about Riko.

Madam Seiskaya’s classes were brutal, but she was the only instructor in the Nest that cared about their welfare. Neil wondered what she did to deserve being locked up in this place - for she was just as much a prisoner as they.

At the end of class, Neil dodged Jean’s approach and made to leave the studio as fast as possible. Instead, Madam caught hold of his arm and gently pulled him aside. Her lips were pursed and she scrutinized him for a long moment.

Neil pressed his own lips together for a second and stood still for her. He cleared his throat in question. “Yes, Madam...?” 

Her brows gathered and eyes narrowed. With a shake of her head, she gave his arm a squeeze, “Have a good day.”

Something was hidden in those words.

Neil didn’t know what.

-

Back on the ice, he had three sessions before dinner. Every hour was occupied with a lesson either centering around spins, jumps, or choreography with the _Master_. The remaining three sessions were for practicing on his own, refining his skills, and memorizing his program before bed.

Neil hadn’t seen Andrew all day, but Riko made an appearance before dinner. He couldn’t taunt him because Neil was busy with his uncle, but Neil felt him watching from the side at all times. The envelope burned hotter as it sat deep in his pocket, folded several times as if the smaller Neil got it, the faster the temptation would go away.

-

Andrew’s absence and Riko’s presence stirred something so sickening in Neil’s stomach, that he could barely eat.

Neil checked the roster again once he realized his appetite was nonexistent. Everything remained the same and Neil left early to try and catch Andrew in the halls.

He couldn’t.

-

The last three sessions bled into each other. They dragged on forever and Neil kept checking the time for the last 60 minute bracket to arrive.

When it did, Neil stopped what he was doing and trained his eyes on the door of the rink to spot the blond head that emerged from the locker room beyond.

 _Andrew_.

Neil had his toe-pick in the ice, ready to push himself towards him - to ask what the fuck happened and bring up the envelope. However, Kevin was right behind (sans Riko) fingers moving deftly on his phone until his eyes lifted to meet Neil’s. Neil felt his glare before he registered it. He stifled flipping Day off, dug his hand into his pocket, and approached Andrew instead.

“Hey.” Andrew’s blades cut into the ice with hard edges. Each push was powerful as he propelled himself towards the boards.

“Hey, yourself.” Andrew's voice was low, worn, and uncharacteristically cold. He looked tired, bags resting under his eyes. Andrew didn’t stop or even look to Neil as he set his caddy on the boards and pulled on his black gloves.

Neil glanced around the ice and caught the _Master’s_ eyes. Clenching his jaw, Neil lowered his gaze and took his water bottle from his own caddy. “Our schedules were changed,” he kept his voice quiet.

Kevin was beside them. Tucking his phone into the side pocket of his case he said, “Stop talking. Drills.”

Normally, Andrew would tell him to shut up. Today, Andrew’s brow twitched, but he said not a word as he gave Neil one long look, and started his drills.

Something was wrong, but Neil didn’t know what. He dropped the envelope in his pocket and brushed that hand frustratingly through his hair.

“Wesninski!” The _Master_ yelled. Neil flinched and got back to work.

-

The night was closing in and Andrew had barely spared him a single glance. Neil tried approaching him, saying something as they passed, but Andrew kept his eyes firmly ahead as he went through his motions.

Neil had just finished a run through of his new program. He was making his laps around the rink to keep his heart rate up and increase his endurance when new music filled the stadium.

It was an Elvis medley and it rang throughout the rink, bouncing up the bleachers and back to Neil’s ears. He’d never heard it before and when he stopped at the boards to catch his breath, he only just realized to whom the music belonged.

It was so ridiculous, it was comical.

Neil supposed that was the point.

He knew most of them were getting new programs to prepare for the upcoming competitive season. Neil, though not yet competing on the national stage and wouldn’t for another year, was just started to learn his: Le Corsaire by Adolphe Adam. Modeled after the ballet, the next few days Madam would be sitting in on their choreography lessons, working with the _Master_ and the plan he had already set. Neil wasn’t overjoyed, but the music itself was nice, he guessed, and Madam may lessen the blow of the _Master’s_ brutality.  

That was _fine_. Everyone here had skated to at least one classical piece in one way or another. But this?

Blank faced, stoic, and cold Andrew just landed his first jump and Neil’s jaw fell open. Not at the jump itself, (he guessed it was supposed to be an immensely difficult, insanely huge quad lutz*. Andrew turned it into a triple, his body relaxing in the air towards the end in an easy form that melted into a lazy check* once his blade hit the ice) no, his jaw dropped at the fact that the _Master_ had given _him - Andrew -_ ** _Elvis_** to perform.

Neil was good with classical music. He liked ballet and he liked the classics, but Andrew was _known_ for them. Making him skate to this, to the false King of Rock ‘n Roll, Neil could only see as punishment. For what, he didn’t know.

_Perhaps that was why Andrew was in such a bad mood..._

He was only marking* the program - being selective with what he gave his all and what he didn’t. From the boards, Neil could see how tight Andrew’s jaw was as he took his time, skating from one side of the rink to the other and forgoing the planned steps.

•••

Neil could remember the first time he saw Andrew skate. It felt like forever ago, but was as fresh in his mind as if it were yesterday.

Neil’s body had been beaten so badly that he couldn’t even lace his own skates. Instead, he sat in the bleachers on the _Master’s_ orders, watching the entire days worth of practices. He was halfway through and eight sessions in, when _Andrew Doe_ took the ice.

He was the blond boy that opened his mouth too many times when Neil was dragged into the Nest. He was so _small_ , yet the powerful cut of his edges vibrated in Neil’s ears.

Andrew had warmed up with quick drills around the ice. He was fast and efficient, going through the motions with a cool grace that hypnotized Neil completely. He couldn’t tear his eyes away - not as Andrew’s drills finished and he melted right into jumps. Singles bled into doubles and doubles easily into triples. Neil watched in complete awe, leaning forward in his seat though it pained him. Even Andrew’s falls, though few and far between, were graceful. Some looked pretty bad, surely leaving a mark on his cold blushed skin; but he was down and up again within seconds, trying again and again until he got it.

He was beautiful and took Neil’s breath away. However, the most beautiful thing about _Andrew Doe_ , was not the way in which he moved, but the calm on his face that Neil could recognize anywhere. Sometimes, Andrew would close his eyes while he prepped for a jump - or when he landed, a small smirk would pull at the corner of his usually blank resolve.

Neil could scarcely comprehend the feelings that tugged within him whenever he spotted the little breaths between Andrew’s armor.

He still couldn’t.

•••

Somewhere between one jump and the next, Andrew picked up the choreography once more.

Neil had forgotten his water at that point. His eyes followed Andrew’s every move. He watched as Andrew completed easy, beautiful jumps; swift, nimble footwork; and hopelessly lazy steps, between selective choreography. The first song in the medley was Steamroller Blues and it bled into something soft, a piano playing slowly and -

_Wise men say, only fools rush in -_

Neil’s breath caught. Andrew wasn’t even moving to the music, just stroking* from one side of the rink to the other with his hands swinging by his sides. Out of nowhere, that changed when Andrew gained speed, picking up the choreography and falling into the music so smoothly that Neil was struck. Andrew landed a quad toe*, but had to hang onto the landing. Neil’s heart sped - not because of the landing, because of the... Of the _what...?_

Andrew’s hands lifted into the air, completing an arc as a _softness_ relaxed on his face and that _calm_ smoothed over his features. For a moment, Andrew closed his eyes and Neil didn’t think he had ever see something, someone, so beautiful. The lights turned Andrew’s hair a pale gold and it pushed and pulled in the air as Andrew set up for a triple axel*. After landing, he skated in front of Neil with a short spread eagle* and a release with a movement of his hand that brushed over the left side of his chest.* Their eyes locked and Andrew’s widened for only a moment -

_Falling in -_

The music slipped in and Neil’s stomach did something funny.

Andrew dropped his hand and the choreography as he turned his head away. He went back to marking and the _Master_ yelled Neil’s name once more.

-

Andrew didn’t look at him for the rest of the session and Neil stopped trying to get his attention.

Kevin’s program was the last run through of the night and when it faded, Neil went to the boards to gather his things and sling his caddy over the crook of his elbow. He pushed his hair away from his forehead as a weight fell in his stomach.

Beside him, Andrew’s things were gone. He must have left when Neil was spinning - slipping off the rink into the locker room. Neil swallowed hard and ripped his gloves off.

“Did you open it?”

Kevin’s voice jolted Neil from his thoughts. Neil turned towards him quickly to find Kevin’s own things gathered in his arms. There was intent look settled deep in his eyes.

“I ripped it into tiny pieces and flushed it.”

Kevin’s eyes widened and his back straightened. The sharp corner of the envelope stuck into his thigh. Kevin’s gaze flicked nervously towards the locker room and his lips pressed into a straight line.

“That was a very bad idea, Nathaniel...” His tone went low.

“Was it?” Neil rolled his eyes, then narrowed them as he crossed his arms over his chest. He too looked towards the locker room, and because of Kevin, a twinge of anxiety starting to creep on his edges. He tried not to let it show.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Kevin shook his head and started to skate away.

Neil ground his teeth together and followed him quickly. “Kevin-” he hissed.

Kevin was off the ice, pulling the black guards onto his blades. When he stood, Neil was loudly shutting the rink door and dropping the lever into place.

Kevin changed his weight from one foot to the other and checked behind them again. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Wednesday-”

“Saturday. Do you know the date?”

“February-”

“Fucking hell, Nathaniel. The _actual_ date - don’t you keep track?”

•••

“Days are different here...” His name was Jean Moreau and a french accent played with his words - heavy and hard to understand.

A year older than Nathaniel, Jean was a tall, lanky boy with dark hair and ghostly skin. Evidently, he had been in the Nest for just over three months - long enough to know how things ran. Jean was also, apparently, his roommate.

Nathaniel had spent the past few nights in the ‘infirmary’. Some old man watched over him, never speaking - only roughly cleaning old and new wounds with stinging antiseptic, wrapped with tight bandages that nearly cut off his circulation. Today was the first day he was allowed out of bed, given a tour of this dungeon, and shown his new sleeping arrangements.

The room was almost completely bare, but for bedding folded neatly on Nathaniel’s new mattress and a book on Jean’s bedside. Jean’s own bed was made military style, with sharp corners and covers drawn tight. Jean sat on Nathaniel’s bed as Nathaniel surveyed the room with a cool gaze and tight jaw.

“Oh?” Nathaniel drawled. He had no belongings, so his he placed his hands on his sore hips and only winced once. With a deep breath that made his lungs ache and broken ribs scream in protest, he relished in the pain. He needed to feel something in this room of nothing.

“We are in summer,” Jean’s voice was quiet, almost conspiratorial and Nathaniel had to take a few steps forward to hear and understand. “That means, we are on a different schedule... Our days are 16 hours instead of 24... Which makes one week, a week and a half.” Jean pressed his lips together and wrung his hands in his lap. “You were in l’hopital for three days - but here...? It has been five.”

•••

_It’s winter break._

“What does it matter?” Neil shrugged and tried to project an air of nonchalance even though something like hysteria began to rise in his throat. He didn’t know why.

“What does it-” Kevin scoffed and shook his head, “You should start.” He turned and walked to the locker room - leaving Neil with the sick feeling in his stomach.

-

Music radiated from the lounge. Neil didn’t know the song, but it was something cheery and upbeat. It wasn’t uncommon to hear music in the Nest (they were figure skaters, after all), but it was never out of place... Not like this. Neil felt his guards creak as he walked across the rubber flooring of the hall leading to the main area of the locker room. Right as he was about to round the corner, Andrew appeared, a storm in his eyes and anger radiating off of him.

Over his shoulder, he had two bags; one of them was Neil’s. His hand came out quickly and he pressed it to Neil’s chest as he said, “Turn around and walk.”

“Wh-” Neil stopped completely and furrowed his brows. “Why?” His fingers brushed on Andrew’s wrist, but he didn’t grasp it. His eyes went from Andrew’s to the space behind him where Riko’s voice began to taunt.

“Is that you Nathaniel?” Then a series of shushes followed. All of a sudden, the music cut and -

Andrew’s fingers curled in Neil's black shirt. “Walk,” he hissed, but Neil was bad at following directions.

“What's going on...?” He asked as the lights in the lounge went out and a few giggles ensued. Andrew tugged on his shirt and he said his name once more, but Neil wasn’t listening. He stepped around the corner to be met with a dim room. There were bodies around. Something hanging from the ceiling that Neil couldn’t see. The uncharacteristic smell of baked goods radiated from the area.

Then, there was a flicker of a match. The fire from the tip spread as one candle was lit, then another and another... And as the warm glow stretched to over a dozen candles, more of the room became illuminated. There were strings to balloons, tall flute glasses, faces of his unofficial teammates... Then Riko’s smiling jeer.

_Do you know what day it is?_

“Happy Birthday, to you!” Riko started the song and Andrew’s grip went from the front of his shirt to the back. Andrew tugged again, hissing his name, but Neil was frozen to the spot... He dropped the caddy slung on his arm - it clattered to the floor.

“Happy Birthday, to you!” More voices joined and Neil felt his head getting dizzy. Like up in a tall building, oxygen felt scarce. He couldn’t _breathe_ and the sickness, the bile in his stomach was finally climbing up his throat.

Riko had the cake in his hands. He walked towards Neil, taking his time as Neil stayed rooted in his spot. Faintly, Neil saw Andrew move beside him, grabbing hold of the back of his neck while his other hand pressed to his chest again to try and get him to move. “Abram,” Andrew said this time.

Riko was close, the cake in view. They didn’t use the name ‘Neil’ when Riko was around - instead opting for Neil’s middle name... the name his mother -

It was the same as it was that day. A round cake with primary colored icing piped around the edges and drawn into balloons and confetti... Neil couldn’t tear his eyes away, couldn’t register Andrew’s voice as the song continued and the words on the cake connected.

“Happy Birthday, dear _Junior_ -”

It was a full body reaction. Something in him broke, jolted - he shot his hand out and knocked the cake out of Riko’s hands.

The candles went out, the cake fell to the ground with a wet thud, and the singing abruptly stopped. All Neil could hear was his ragged breathing and all he could feel was hands on him...

Neil stumbled backwards, pushing away from Andrew as Riko sighed dramatically, “Well, that wasn’t very nice.”

The lights clicked on. Andrew had his hands up in surrender, but his eyes were firmly focused on Neil. Riko was licking icing off of his thumb as he shook his head and looked down at the cake with a forlorn expression. Ravens stood around them, birthday hats on. Jean stood to the side, looking down at his hands with a pale face. Meanwhile, Kevin sat on one of the couches, legs stretched out, skates still on, and ankles crossed. Against the wall was a table filled with cupcakes and other sweets. A banner hung from the ceiling that read, _Happy Birthday Junior!_ In the same lettering, the same font -

A loud slap radiated throughout the room. Neil was standing and then he wasn't. His hands were flat on the floor, knees screaming, and face singing with a burning sting. Neil’s eyes were wide, watching as blood began to drip in the space between his hands. Numbly, he rose his fingers to his face, feeling where pain lanced on his cheek and bridge of his nose. His fingers came back red.

There was some sort of scuffle behind him. Kevin’s voice shouting tersely, “Stay out of it, _Doe_!” before Riko cursed.

Turning his head, Neil watched as Andrew gathered Riko’s collar tightly around his fingers, putting himself between them. Neil couldn’t see his face, but he could see Andrew’s free hand clenched in a fist and Riko’s sneering back at Andrew. Kevin was up, standing behind Riko with his arm out as if to stop anymore violence from ensuing, and the Ravens around them were held on a collective breath.

A sick smile spread on Riko’s face. “Look, _Junior-”_

_That name, that name, that name..._

“Your boyfriend is protecting you.” Riko looked over Andrew’s shoulder, down towards Neil, then his eyes flicked back up. “What, _Doe_? Don’t want me messing up his pretty face before you get to him?”

Andrew’s shoulders stiffened. The air around them _changed_.

The bile in his throat stung, but stayed. Neil didn't realize he was pushing himself to stand as he grit his teeth and hissed, “Fuck off, Riko,” and made to move around Andrew. He felt the blood drip down his face.

Andrew pushed Neil back and Riko stepped forward into Andrew’s space, as if to pursue the foolish threat Neil was about to pose. Andrew let go of Riko’s shirt and pressed that hand flat against Riko’s chest as he shoved him harshly back.

“Turn around,” Andrew hissed back towards Neil.

Riko’s eyes were bright and focused on Neil when he threw the first punch.

Andrew didn’t see it coming, but Neil did. He went to grab Andrew to pull him away, but before he could even try - before he could get words out of his mouth, Riko’s fist connected with Andrew’s left eye.

Andrew didn’t fall over like Neil, but his body turned with the force of it.

A ring with a small red gem gleamed on Riko’s finger under the fluorescents. Neil’s blood stained his knuckles - Andrew’s did too.

So many things happened at once. Neil was moving - or trying to move. Andrew’s hand was still braced against him, firm and unmoving. Curses spilled through his clenched teeth and Neil was prepared to play dirty to make Riko pay for laying a hand on Andrew - for all of this.

Riko was laughing this horrible laugh as Kevin tugged him back by his shoulder. Riko shrugged him off. Jean appeared out of nowhere, pleading with Neil and Andrew to _stop_ and Neil was almost positive he told Jean to fuck off too.

At some point, Andrew removed his touch from Neil’s chest to push Riko away with both hands, as Riko puffed up his stupid fucking chest and got in Andrew’s face.

Andrew wasn’t backing down, saying something low that Neil couldn’t hear over Jean’s pleas, the Ravens gasps, and his own useless words. Whatever Andrew said must have struck a cord because Neil _did_ hear Riko’s loud, “Oh, really?” and the sound of skin hitting skin in a meaty punch only just reached Neil’s ears as Andrew backed into Neil.

Neil was about to grab Andrew to steady him, but Andrew surged forward and finally punched Riko back.

Everyone in the room stopped, Riko included. He held onto his cheek, eyes wide and off to the side in shock. Neil’s own shoulders were strained in a shrug, hands up as if in surrender. Kevin’s hands were on his face and Jean made a scared sound as if to brace himself from a hit headed his own way.

Someone cursed, others drew loud breaths and half of the Ravens fled from the lounge. Those that remained were taking the time to relish the moment. Neil would, if not for how tightly wound Andrew was... He would if his intrusive memories were not trying to poke through the distraction Riko had unknowingly provided. He couldn’t relish in this... Because Nathan Wesninski’s presence was in this room via crystal champagne flutes and plastic, primary colored banners  - because Andrew was bleeding; because Riko was gaping at the two of them, trying to form the words ‘how dare-’ on his lips.

Andrew grabbed their two bags he had dropped, hoisted them over his shoulder, and turned towards Neil. Their eyes locked for a moment - gold meeting icy blue. There was a split at the corner of Andrew’s lips and a gash in his left brow, and yet, there was also something strong and fierce in the way he scanned over Neil’s face, as if assessing the damage.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a second, but that second felt like a lifetime. Andrew grabbed Neil’s arm, then turned his head and spit blood onto the floor at Riko’s feet.

Someone huffed a laugh somewhere in the room.

“ _Doe-_ ” Riko hissed.

Andrew pulled Neil out of the locker room.

Riko didn’t follow.

-

Andrew led Neil out of the rink and down the winding corridors of the Nest. Though Neil was numb, he used his shoulder to wipe the blood dripping down his face. His eyes were trained on Andrew’s back, forcing his mind to think of the blond on the ice, rather than Riko in the lounge. Andrew’s hand was tight around his arm and it was steadying, grounding. At some point Neil closed his eyes, trusting Andrew to lead him to safety as he reimagined that moment during Andrew’s program -

_The lights turned Andrew’s hair a pale gold and it pushed and pulled in the air as Andrew set up for a triple axel. After landing, he skated in front of Neil with a short spread eagle and a release with a movement of his hand that brushed over the left side of his chest... Their eyes locked and Andrew’s widened for only a moment -_

Riko may have followed. Neil didn’t know. He could barely hear through the music humming in his head, his own breath in his ears and Andrew’s name rasp from his throat to form on his lips.

“‘Drew-” he put his fingers over Andrew’s on his wrist, leaving them there when Andrew didn’t protest -

Or respond. Instead, he pulled Neil deeper and deeper into the belly of the beast - taking him in a direction Neil had never been before.

Neil’s feet ached from his boots and he felt his guards creek beneath his soles. Eventually, they stopped before a locked door. Andrew let go of Neil’s wrist and Neil forced himself to put his hand in his pocket so he did not reach out again. Something was broken in the lost connection. Neil felt dizzy and this time, when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the cake...

_Happy Birthday, Junior._

Keys rattled. Neil’s eyes flew open and Andrew, with blood wiped from the splits in his skin, was looking right at him - hazel and gold burning like a fire as he surveyed Neil, then turned towards the door.

“Just wait.” Andrew finally spoke, flipping through they keys on the ring before landing on the right one. He slipped it into the lock, gave a twist, and the door swung open.

Neil didn’t have the mind to ask where he had gotten the keys or how he knew to come here. He just wrapped his fingers tightly around the folded envelope in his pocket and nodded numbly.

The room beyond was dark and Neil couldn’t make a single thing out. Andrew disappeared inside, but held the door open for him while he stuffed the keys into his bag and pulled out a little pocket light from the side. Flicking it on, the small pool of light shone on a set of couches and bean bag chairs. Neil followed him inside and Andrew shut the door.

“Found this place a couple of months ago.” Andrew hovered the circle of light around the room to reveal a dated tv mounted to the wall. Neil couldn’t tell what the room felt like and that realization only sucked the numbness away and revealed involuntary shivers coursing through his body. Neil bit down on his tongue and nodded slightly, locking up his muscles as if that would cease the tremors.

“Stole the keys from one of the night crew...” He shrugged a shoulder and pointed the light towards the pair of bean bag chairs. Rather than grab Neil again, he rose his brows and nodded his head in that direction. “Sit.”

Neil blinked slowly several times, before inhaling a deep breath and doing as told. He sank down in the chair - the leather only slightly cool and oddly comforting as the chair began to swallow him. For some reason, it made him feel safe.

Andrew followed after dropping both of those bags to the floor. He set the flashlight off to the side, shining on them so they could see, and sat across from Neil. He didn’t lean back, but instead pressed forward and patted the floor for Neil’s foot.

“What’s your name?” Andrew asked as Neil slowly lifted his foot and placed it between Andrew’s feet. Andrew pulled the ankle of Neil’s pants up and started to untie the double knot of his laces.

Neil squinted down at him, at his blond hair turned white from the flashlight. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat. With deep breath, he said, “Nathaniel Wesninski.”

Andrew didn’t stop unlacing his boots. He shook his head and loosened the bottom until it was good enough to pull off Neil’s foot. “That’s not the name you chose. What is the name you chose?” He tugged Neil’s boot off and Neil’s heel fell back to the stone floor once it was released. Andrew tossed his skate aside gently, a hollow thud ricochetting in Neil’s head as Andrew looked up at him and leaned his elbows on his knees.

Neil pressed his lips together and noticed that the white light brought out the green hints in Andrew’s eyes. He stared at them, taking them in as he found the answer he knew they both wanted, needed to hear.

“Neil Josten.” It came just over a whisper.

Andrew accepted that and began unlacing his other skate. He asked another question, “When is Neil Josten’s birthday?”

Neil couldn’t respond. He pressed his palm against the sharp edge of the envelope that had been poking him earlier. He didn’t wince as it dug into his skin.

Andrew glanced up at him, pausing in his ministrations. His eyes narrowed and Neil felt his scrutiny, but could not find it in himself to answer.

•••

“Smile for the camera, Nathaniel.”

His father’s arm was wrapped tightly around his shoulders and fingers pressed into the cut in his shoulder that Lola had made. He tried not to wince, he tried to fight the prickling pain in his eyes.

Nathaniel bit into his tongue as hard as he could - sinking his teeth lower and lower until he tasted blood.

“Nathaniel... Smile - it’s your birthday.” His mother had her hand in his hair. She stroked her fingers through, but the tips passed over a set of stitches Nathaniel had gotten after Romero pushed him down the stairs. He knew she didn’t mean to, and he certainly hadn’t - but Nathaniel winced and a quick whimper fell from his lips.

A strong hand replaced his mothers in his hair. His father shoved Nathaniel’s face into the red, blue, and yellow icing of the cake. He held him there until Nathaniel could no longer breathe and all Nathaniel could do was _panic, panic, panic_ -

•••

“Hey.” One hand was at the back of his neck - strong, steady, comforting. Another was over Neil’s hand in his pocket. Fingers wrapped gently around Neil’s wrist and pulled his hand out. “Breathe with me,” Andrew quietly commanded.

Neil pried his eyes open and shook his head. He couldn’t, because

_Nathaniel couldn’t breathe, breathe, breath-_

Andrew removed the envelope from his hand. There was a sharp pain where he had pressed the corner in -

_It might be bleeding._

He didn’t know where it went, but Andrew pulled that hand to his chest and flattened his fingers so they were spread. Andrew’s chest expanded slowly, then compressed and Neil tried to follow...

It felt like forever until Neil could finally suck a proper breath into his lungs and let it out in time with Andrew’s.

Once he could breathe on his own, Andrew pulled back his hands slowly and dropped them to the remaining boot. Neil placed his own hands in his lap as Andrew gently removed the skate from his foot and set it aside. He then picked up the folded, scarlet tipped envelope and spread it out on his thigh. The light made the white paper stand in sharp contrast against Andrew’s pants and Neil zeroed in on it.

“Is this what I think it is...?” Andrew asked, pulling the peeling sticker off. He looked down on the smiley face, then flicked it away. Neil couldn’t see the contents as the flap lifted on its own, free from its binds - but Andrew could. He folded it in half again as Neil nodded.

“It was on my bed... I tried to find you but-” Neil started.

“Our schedules were changed,” Andrew completed.

Neil didn’t bother nodding and Andrew tapped the envelope on his thigh. “Did you look inside?” Andrew asked.

Neil shook his head, swallowing the sick that was climbing back up his throat.

“Do you want to?”

Did he...? After what happened in the locker room - Neil shook his head again.

“Do you want me to?”

Neil didn’t know... There were few things he held from Andrew and all the important secrets, he already knew. So what could possibly be inside...? He would never find out. Because Neil shook his head and Andrew nodded once.

“Okay.” Andrew scanned his eyes over Neil’s face and Neil lowered his gaze. “Hey.” Andrew murmured, reaching his free hand over and lifted Neil’s chin so he could look him in the eye. Neil wanted to avert, but he was struck with what he had found hiding in the gold _once again_.

Andrew didn’t say another word, but Neil could see the cogs turning in his head. After a long moment, he pulled back, looked down to the envelope, then turned to pull his bag over by its strap. Once it was close enough, he opened one of the side pockets and took out an apple wrapped in a paper towel. After digging around some more, Andrew pulled out the switchblade he had stolen from one of the upperclassmen a few months ago.

Andrew put the folded envelope between his teeth and dropped the paper towel to the floor. With his free hand, he held up the switchblade so Neil could see and something in the way he did it made Neil wonder if it was to make sure Neil was okay. After several seconds of silence, Neil finally nodded and Andrew did too.

Deftly unfolding the blade, he set to carving a hole around the stem at the top of the apple. Once that was done, he tossed the carved part aside and closed the blade. Dropping that back into the pocket of his bag, he dug around some more until he pulled out a lighter (used to fix fraying laces).

Neil had no idea what he was doing and the entire ordeal of it all had the leftover panic seeping out of his body. What was left was a slow-growing curiosity. “What are you-” Neil started.  

Andrew held up a finger to wait. He lifted his hips and pulled out an unused candle. It was plain white and - Andrew spoke around the envelope.  “They were still setting up when I walked in. I didn’t know, Neil... I was going to steal a cupcake for you too - but, I didn’t feel like dealing with Riko. So, this will have to make do.” He stuck the candle in the hole at the top of the apple and there _it_ was again. This time it was something _warm_ and _right_ and it spread throughout Neil’s chest.

Andrew flicked the lighter until the flame appeared. It turned Andrew’s eyes bright and molten, and the firelight fought with the cold sterility of the flashlight on the ground. The breath in Neil’s throat caught and Andrew lit the candle.  
  
Taking the envelope from his lips, Andrew looked to Neil once more for confirmation. It was then that Neil realized he was going to burn it.

Neil looked to the envelope, tried to weigh what importance the contents within could have... And realized the only thing it could do was feed into Riko’s game.

Neil nodded and Andrew put the bloodied edge over the flame of the candle. It took a few moments for it to ignite, but when it did, Neil watched its edges curl... Watched as the paper peeled away revealed the melting edge of a photograph - _the photograph._

_Smile for the camera, Nathaniel._

Neil sucked in a deep breath and smelled the fire, smelled the flames, and watched as they ate his past, only to reveal his present. Andrew’s face, the fire highlighting his features. Neil focused on that, on _him_ , as the photograph burned and dropped to the stone floor between their feet. Andrew stomped it out, extinguishing the light and leaving only the gentle glow of the candle in the apple.

“Now, answer my question. When is Neil Josten’s birthday?” Andrew held the apple closer as he leaned forward until it was before Neil’s face.

Neil swallowed hard and looked between the melting candle and Andrew’s eyes. With a deep breath in, he leaned forward himself, letting his hand reach out for Andrew’s wrist. He paused before his fingers touched, but Andrew didn’t nod. He waited.

“January 19... Today.”

Andrew nodded and glanced down at Neil’s hand, a silent _yes_.

Neil slowly wrapped his fingers around his wrist and tightened his grip gently. He closed his eyes and felt his entire body warm as Andrew came closer into his space. His voice lowered and the flame, casting red light from behind Neil’s eyelids, flickered when Andrew spoke. “Good. Happy Birthday, Neil Josten.”

Neil couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips. He blew the candle out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary*  
> \- [Quad Lutz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGPhymzFSfo)  
> \- [Triple Lutz](https://youtu.be/vzLUtvHwKyo?t=26)  
> \- Check out/check - end of spin/jump  
> \- Marking - laying out the program with very little choreography, if any.  
> \- Stroking - skating.  
> \- [Quad Toe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzLUtvHwKyo)  
> \- [Triple Axel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzLUtvHwKyo)  
> \- [Spread Eagle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzLUtvHwKyo)  
> \- [Left side of his chest](https://youtu.be/vzLUtvHwKyo?t=188) \- watch to see the moment i'm talking about!!!!
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!!!! I hope this was okay. I tried to give it a bit of plot so it wasnt completely boring to read... lol  
> I promise chapter 9 of BloodSport is on the way! It's going through a rewrite right now, but I think I've finally got it. Sorry for the delay!
> 
> You can always catch me on my [tumblr](https://bloodydamnit.tumblr.com/) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/bloodydamnit/). Come and chat or send me suggestions for more of these stories!!!  
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Thank you so much everyone. Seriously. The support means so much! <3


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